“Right you are,” Joanna told him cheerfully. “Where else would it be?”

CHAPTER ELEVEN

It took almost an hour and a half for the ranger from Fish and Wildlife to show up and take charge of both Elvira Hollenbeck and her snakes. By then Joanna was sick to death of Oak Vista Estates. She had hung around with the snake lady longer than necessary in hopes Mark Childers would finally return from his endlessly long lunch. Finally, Joanna left Deputy Gregovich and the ranger to sort things out and drove on into Sierra Vista. After locating Dena Hogan’s office on Fry Boulevard, Joanna was told by the receptionist that Mrs. Hogan was in court-in Bisbee.

Frustrated, Joanna gave up and decided to head back there herself. On the way, her phone rang once again. “Where are you?” Butch Dixon asked.

“Just over the Divide.”

“Since we seem to be engaged, don’t you think we should meet for a late lunch?”

“What about Junior?”

“I’ll bring him along. Not very romantic, I know, but that’s the way it is.”

“How’s he doing?” Joanna asked.

“All right. Once I got him started on video games, he finally stopped driving me crazy about the badge.”

“I have one for him,” Joanna said. “Remind me to give it to him at lunch.” She paused, needing to ask and not wanting to. “Well?” she said.

“Well what?”

“What happened with Eleanor?”

“We had a nice chat.”

“Butch, when it comes to my mother, there’s no such thing as a nice chat. What did she say?”

“She asked if I was going to marry you, and I said yes. End of discussion.”

“Just wait,” Joanna predicted. “She isn’t going to let me off that easy.”

“Of course not,” Butch agreed. “You’re her daughter. Maybe we could work out a deal. You talk to my mother, and I talk to yours.”

“I don’t even know your mother.”

“It’s just as well.”

“You never talk about her.”

“For good reason.”

“Is she going to be happy about this?”

“About our getting married? Sure.”

“Then why don’t you want to talk to her about it?”

“Probably for a lot of the same reasons you don’t want to talk to yours,” Butch admitted. “That’s why I know how to handle Eleanor. It’s familiar territory. Those two women are birds of a feather. My mother and yours could be twins.”

“Oh, great!” Joanna said. “That should make for a really interesting wedding.”

“Right,” Butch said. “We’ll turn our mothers loose on each other. Bisbee, Arizona, will never be the same. When it comes time for the rehearsal dinner, your mother can complain about having a sheriff for a daughter, and mine can gripe about having an ungrateful son who left Chicago-where they’re currently having an early winter ice storm, by the way-and won’t come back. Speaking of which, have you thought about it at all-about what kind of wedding you want? Where? That kind of thing?”

“Butch, give me a break. I’ve had my hands full with a gun-toting construction crew and a Gray Panther who evidently supplements her Social Security checks by illegally collecting rattlesnakes. I haven’t exactly had a chance to pick up the latest copy of Bride magazine.”

“Well,” Butch said. “Maybe we can talk about it at lunch.”

Walking into Daisy’s, Joanna hurried to the back booth where Butch and Junior were already seated. Both of them seemed overjoyed to see her. Joanna planted a kiss on the top of Butch’s smoothly shaved head. “‘Yes, dammit’ isn’t a very good answer,” she said.

Butch grinned up at her. “It works for me,” he said.

It turned out, however, that Daisy’s Cafe in the early afternoon was neither the time nor the place to discuss wedding plans. For one thing, the addition of a very noisy Junior to the mix made Butch and Joanna’s presence the object of more than the usual amount of curiosity. Several people stopped by to chat, but talking was merely a subterfuge to check out what was going on in their booth.

Hoping to quiet Junior, Joanna finally gave him his new badge. He greeted the gift with exuberant glee. When Daisy Maxwell showed up to take their order, Junior was so de-lighted that he practically bounced out of the booth.

“What have you got there?” Daisy asked, pulling a stubby pencil out of her stiffly lacquered beehive hairdo.

“Mine!” Junior announced triumphantly, waving the badge before her eyes. “Put on,” he begged. “Put on, please.”

Before Joanna could do as he asked, Daisy had slapped her order pad and pencil down on the table. “All right, I will,” she said. “But you’ll need to stand up, and you’ll have to be very still.”

Grinning, Junior bounded out of his seat and then stood ramrod-straight while Daisy Maxwell carefully pinned the badge to his shirt pocket. “There now,” she said, patting it in place. “Isn’t that something!”

Joanna was touched by Daisy’s easygoing kindness and also by the fact that Junior’s khaki shirt and slacks had been washed and neatly pressed. The people who lived in Bisbee-even new arrivals like Butch-were generally pretty good folks, and Sheriff Brady was proud to be one of them.

“You from around here?” Daisy asked as Junior resumed his seat.

Junior’s face clouded. The grin vanished. He shook his head sadly, then he pointed at Joanna. “Take Junior home,” he said. “Me go home.”

“Well,” Daisy said, “lunch first. What’ll you have?” Junior looked at her in bewilderment.

“How about a hamburger,” Daisy coached. “You like hamburgers?”

He nodded. “Like.”

“And to drink. What about a milk shake? Chocolate, maybe?”

The grin returned. Junior beamed. “Yes. Junior like.” After Joanna and Butch placed their orders, Daisy started away from the table. Then she turned back. “So where’s he from really?” she asked.

“We don’t know,” Joanna admitted. “He was left behind at the arts and crafts fair in Saint David over the weekend. His name is Junior, but that’s all we know about him. No last name. No idea of where he’s from. Nothing. He’s staying over at Butch’s house for the time being-until we find out where he belongs.”

“How are you going to do that?”

Joanna shook her head. “I have no idea. If we had some clue about where he was from, it would be a big help. But we don’t. He could be from somewhere in Arizona or from someplace out of state as well. It’s snowbird season again. According to Father Mulligan at Holy Trinity, the arts and crafts fair drew visitors from all over the country.”

“So he could be from almost anywhere,” Daisy said with a thoughtful frown. “That would make it tough.”

Joanna smiled at her obvious concern. “If you come up with any bright ideas, we’re open to any and all suggestions.”

“I’ll think about it,” Daisy said. “But before I do that, I’d better turn in your order or you won’t ever get any lunch.”

Daisy disappeared into the kitchen, and Joanna turned back to Butch, who seemed suddenly subdued. “That does take some getting used to,” he said.

“What’s that?”

“The fact that you’re always on duty,” he said seriously. “The fact that your pager can go off anytime of the day or night and you have to go. You’re like a doctor on call, and it’s the same way for Marianne. She’s always on duty, too. I think the only time she ever lets her hair down is when she’s around you. Look what happened to her and Jeff after Esther died. Grief should be private, but it seems like theirs is everybody else’s business. It’ll be exactly the sane thing when it comes to our wedding, Joanna. You think your mother is bad, but just wait. You’re a public person around here. Everybody in town-no, make that everybody in the whole county-is going to have a vested interest in what happens to you. To us. Are you going to be able to handle it?”

Over time Joanna had gradually grown accustomed to the constant attention. For Butch it was a new phenomenon. “I think so,” she said. “What about you?”